


It's All in the Delivery

by onekisstotakewithme



Series: Swamp(y) Sex [13]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: A complete and utter lack of shame feat. hawkeye pierce, Bisexual B. J. Hunnicutt, Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, Chapter 2 features smut, Episode: s05e06 The Abduction of Margaret Houlihan, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-12 11:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15339363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: Of all the strange things the army has asked of Hawkeye Pierce in the time he’s been in Korea, this may be the strangest.Tag to "The Abduction of Margaret Houlihan"





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



> For Floot. Thanks for the help, encouragement and general loveliness ♥

Of all the strange things the army has asked of Hawkeye Pierce in the time he’s been in Korea, this may be the strangest.

It isn’t as if it hasn’t already been a strange day, even for the 4077th, even in the middle of a war.

Margaret vanished without a trace.

Colonel Flagg showed up, toting six types of paranoia along with his troubles in his old kit bag.

And the icing on the cake, Frank shot BJ, giving Hawkeye a heart attack in the process.

He and BJ are sitting in the Swamp, keeping an eye out lest Flagg show up with some other ridiculous accusations against them. Hawk is trying to focus on his knitting, but his eyes keep wandering over to BJ, who’s thankfully alive and breathing and wonderfully whole, and absolutely _fucking_ beautiful.

 _I could have lost you today,_ Hawk thinks. It’s a strange thought, surreal almost. He was able to keep his emotions in check earlier, managed to keep his hands from shaking as he put the stitches in BJ’s leg, but now, his imagination is running wild.

It seems unfair, impossible that BJ could have died today. Had the angle this morning been the slightest bit different, everything could have changed.  

Hawkeye can’t picture this place without BJ anymore, doesn’t want to try.

Hawk figures that this alone gives him the right to stare longingly at BJ, to greedily drink in the sight of his best friend, whole and alive as he is.

BJ looks up from his letter to Peg (in which he is no doubt describing his misadventures with Frank’s weapon in minute detail), only to catch Hawk staring and give him a smile. “Everything okay, Hawk?”

“Oh, oh, yeah, fine,” Hawk answers, embarrassed to be caught out. He’ll never get used to having BJ to himself (even if this isn’t permanent), will never actually fully understand how he’s allowed to have this. “I just-,”

_“Attention, Attention, all personnel. Captain Pierce please report to Colonel Potter’s office on the double. That’s an order.”_

“You’re a popular guy today, Hawk,” Beej tells him. “Soon we won’t be able to keep up with all the orders.” His grins at his own stupid pun as Hawk throws a ball of yarn at him. He dodges it easily, and then his smile fades into a look of concern when he sees that Hawk is still watching him. “Hawk?”

“Maybe I should stay here and keep an eye on you,” Hawk says, leaning forward in his chair.

“Hawkeye,” BJ sighs. He shakes his head, exasperated affection written all over his face. “I’m _fine._ ”

“Beej, generally people who have been shot are not _fine._ ”

“C’mon, I’ve just got a silly little boo-boo on my leg. You know it’s barely a scratch, you were the one who put the stitches in! It’s not a big deal.”

“I’d call it a big deal,” Hawk starts.

BJ cuts him off, giving him a patented _“I can’t believe I love you”_ look. “And trust me, Hawk, you staring at it and worrying over it will not make it heal any faster.”

Hawk half-shrugs, flippant to a fault. “Who says I’m worried? Maybe I just have a leg fetish.” He starts towards the door, and then turns back. “On the other hand-,”

“Hawk!” Beej tosses Hawk’s own ball of yarn back at him. “Go! You don’t want to keep Potter waiting.”

“Uh _huh_ ,” Hawk says, but stays where he is.

BJ is unimpressed. “Hawk, _go_. I’m a big boy, I think I can look after myself for a few minutes.”

Hawk winks at him. “Don’t have too much fun without me, Big Boy.” He leers at BJ (who rolls his eyes) before walking out the door and heading for Colonel Potter’s office.

He can’t help but turn back as he’s walking, greedy for one last check on BJ’s welfare (or at least, one last departing look at BJ), and as a result doesn’t notice Frank until too late.

“Watch it, you… you…” Frank sputters for a second, and then finally comes up with something, “Rake!”

“Really?” Hawk asks. “And here I thought I was a hoe.” Frank makes a face, before storming off towards the Swamp. Hawk stuffs his hands in his pockets, whistling as he wanders leisurely over to Potter’s office.

He can’t help but wonder if it’s safe to leave Frank and BJ alone again after this morning.

It all happened so fast. Hawkeye doesn’t even remember how he got from the shower back to the Swamp but he heard the gunshot and knew something was wrong. All it would have taken was the right angle and a ricochet would have taken Beej away. And Hawk would be left here. Alone.

He’s just opening the door to Radar’s office when BJ catches up to him, a bit breathless and grinning.

“Did you just run over here?” Hawk asks, unable to help glancing down at Beej’s leg. He can still remember the feeling of BJ’s leg (a territory he’s intimately familiar with) warm under his shaking hands on the OR table this morning, a place where BJ never should have been in the first place.

Beej gives him a lopsided grin. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Radar isn’t in his office, and they find him awkwardly hovering behind Colonel Potter’s shoulder. Flagg is nowhere in sight.

“Afternoon, Pierce. I see you brought your better half,” Potter says, looking between them. “Though I’ll be honest, I only wanted to see you, not him.”

“Where he goes, I go,” Beej says, grinning as he nudges Hawk’s shoulder. “We came as a set.” 

Potter gives the two of them a look. Sometimes, Hawk is convinced that Potter knows there’s more than just friendship between him and BJ (and moments like this aren’t exactly convincing him otherwise). For now though, they’re all content with pretending.

Hawk is sure that a lecture is coming, but all Potter does is gesture to the chairs in front of his desk.  “Take a seat, boys.”

He and BJ exchange a look. “Uh oh.”

 “Colonel, if this is about the other night-,” Hawk starts.

“Whatever it is,” Beej says with a grin. “He’s innocent. I’ll vouch for him.”

Potter holds up a hand. “Can it, both of you. Pierce, I need to ask you a favour. Radar here has thoughtfully reminded me that at this moment, there are a group of pregnant Korean ladies headed this way, expecting a birthing lesson from 4077 staff.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Hawk says to Beej.

Beej winks at him, before he turns back to the colonel. “Forgive me, Colonel, but what does this have to do with Hawkeye?”

“Well, as you both know, I’m busting my buns trying to find Major Houlihan. And since she usually teaches such lessons, being both a major and a woman-,”

“And when we can persuade her, a major woman,” Hawk tells Beej.

“Button it.”

“Sorry, Colonel,” BJ says with a grin. “We’ll behave.”

“Given that Major Houlihan, who normally gives these lectures, is missing, and given that I wouldn’t trust Major Burns to _hold_ a baby-,”

“Knowing Frank, he’d probably drop it,” Hawk mutters to BJ, who laughs.

“ _Ahem_.” Potter gives him another look. “Pierce, that narrows the list to you. You’re going to teach those nice Korean ladies a lesson about the facts of life.”

“Oh, c’mon Colonel-,”

“Sorry, Pierce, you can sweet talk your way out of a lot of things, but not this.”

“C’mon Colonel,” Beej pipes up. “Didn’t you know? His smile can get him out of anything.”

“Tell that to my draft board,” Hawk mutters.

“I love a volunteer,” Potter tells him. “Since you’re so keen on the idea, Hunnicutt, you can give him a hand.”

“You certainly can,” Hawk says with a grin, only to get sharply jabbed with BJ’s elbow.

“Whoa there, Colonel,” Beej tries. “I didn’t-,”

“It’ll be a real treat for those ladies, being in the presence of two educated, highly esteemed doctors such as yourselves. And you’re not too bad on the eyes either.”

“Sweet talk will get you nowhere, Colonel. How can I give a lesson on having babies?” Hawkeye asks. “This may surprise you but _I’ve_ never given birth.”

“That’s good,” Beej says. “You don’t have the hips for it.”

He laughs as Hawk elbows him.

“You’ve got about a half hour to get ready. There’s notes and illustrations waiting in the mess tent.”

“Is that all, Colonel?” Hawk asks, starting to stand up.

“Hold your horses, there’s one little thing I forgot to mention. One of you is going to have to be the demonstrator model.”

“The what?” they ask at the same time, exchanging a look.

“It’s quite simple, boys. How can we teach a lesson without props?”

“I’ve heard diagrams work wonders,” Hawk says. “That’s what Henry used to do.”

There’s a hint of a smile on Potter’s face. “Well I run this ranch a bit differently than he did, Pierce. And since my word is law… One of you will be the doctor, and one of you will be the expectant mother. Now, better hoof it to the mess tent and get ready.”

“Colonel, I’d like to object-,”

“Objection noted. Now if you’ll excuse me boys, I have to find Major Houlihan.” Chuckling, he heads out of the office, leaving BJ and Hawkeye to stare at each other.

“Well,” BJ says. “Shall we head over to the delivery room, Hawk?”

Hawk eyes him. “ _I’m_ not pregnant.”

Beej raises an eyebrow, his eyes practically shining with mischief, and all Hawkeye wants to do is kiss him silly. “Why not?”

“We don’t have a baby to demonstrate.”

“Well don’t look at me,” BJ says. “I left my kid back in California. She wouldn’t fit in my suitcase.”

Hawkeye stops, and grins, turning to Radar. “I think I have an idea,” he says, with a grin, nodding towards Radar. “I think we might be able to have that kid after all.”

“C’mon Hawk, we can’t adopt Radar.”

“Of course not, he’s too big to deliver naturally. It’s all in the hips you know.” He eyes BJ’s hips, biting his lip at the memory of the purple bruises he left there.

From the look on BJ’s face, he’s thinking something similar, and Hawk has to choke back a groan, eyes on BJ’s mouth.

They both seem to remember at the same time that they’re not alone. Beej turns pink as Hawk turns to look at Radar, heart pounding in his ears.

“What do you say, Radar? Want to help us have a baby?”

~

“Why do _I_ have to be the mother?” BJ asks. “Why can’t you be the mother?”

“Because, Beej, you told me I don’t have the hips for it. And you’re right. But you on the other hand…” He lets his eyes rake over BJ’s hips, and BJ groans- Hawk thinks it’s out of frustration, but he isn’t sure.

“I’m not being the pregnant one, Hawk. I’m a man.”

“I’d noticed. Though, funny enough, so am I. Surprised you didn’t already know this, considering all of the personal anatomy lessons I’ve given you.”

Beej stands, eyes flashing, walking over to stare down at Hawk. “If I recall, Hawkeye, _you’re_ the one who wanted me to get you pregnant.”

“Well- I-,” Hawk sputters, eyes on Beej’s mouth. “ _Yeah_ , but-,”

“But what?” Beej asks, giving Hawk a smirk that makes him feel a bit weak at the knees. He’s close enough that if they weren’t totally exposed in the mess tent, Hawk would be reaching for his mouth. 

“But you’re injured,” Hawk says at last, when he realizes he’s been staring at Beej’s mouth for a second too long. And it’s true. “You shouldn’t be standing for long periods of time, so you should be lying down, meaning _you’re_ the pregnant one here, not me. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

Beej gives him a filthy smile that promises a thorough debauching later, and strokes a finger down Hawk’s cheek, then runs a thumb over his lower lip. Hawk swallows, heat rushing to his face.

“You know, Hawk,” Beej says, casually. “That’s exactly what you said to me when I suggested it might not be possible for me to get you pregnant.”

“Was it?” Hawk asks, sounding as out of breath as he feels. He wants nothing more than to lean in and claim Beej for his own, but his lust is balanced out with his intense need to protect Beej. After all, it would be easy for Hawk to think of BJ’s hands gripping him in ecstasy, as they have before, if not for the memory of this morning stark in his mind, of BJ’s hand clutching his robe in pain. He shakes his head. “Beej, you shouldn’t be on the leg-,”

“It’s a _graze_ , Hawk,” BJ says simply, pulling his hand away. “I’ll be fine. Of course, you’re welcome to examine me later, just to make sure…” He raises his eyebrows. “In fact, I look forward to a thorough check up.”

Hawk leans back, clutching the table, feeling lightheaded. “Fine. Only if you’ll be gentle,” he manages at last when he finally gets enough air in his lungs to speak again.

“Aren’t I always?” Beej asks, sounding innocent enough.

“No,” Hawk murmurs breathlessly, remembering thumb-shaped bruises on hips, and stubble burn on the inside of his thighs, and BJ biting his lips as they kiss-

A whine crawls its way up his throat.

“Up on the cot, Hawk. Knees bent, legs apart,” BJ tells him, and it would sound professional enough to passers-by, but Hawk recognizes the voice as the one Beej uses when he wants Hawk to come apart. Hawk swallows hard, thinking of spreading his legs for BJ in other circumstances, and is unable to keep his face from flushing hot.

Hawk makes a choked noise of want and need, aching to be touched, but Beej doesn’t oblige, only leaning in to plant an infuriatingly quick kiss on Hawk’s mouth, laughing to himself as Hawk whines, following his mouth. Instead he steps away and gestures to the cot.  

Hawk is almost grateful to climb onto the cot per BJ’s instructions, if only because the blanket Beej has covered his lower half with is doing something to hide the unfortunate erection he’s sporting.

“You’re going to pay for this,” he tells Beej through gritted teeth.

“All women say that in labor,” Beej replies. “That’s the pain talking.”

“When I said that I wanted you to get me pregnant, I didn’t actually think you’d do it,” Hawk says, wriggling around as he tries to get comfortable.

“Now that you mention it,” Beej says thoughtfully, “I don’t remember actually _getting_ you pregnant.”

“I definitely remember you trying,” Hawk says back, a little breathlessly. “This kid is definitely yours.”

“Christ, Hawk,” Beej mutters, and he’s stalking over, intent and lust written all over his face, clearly about to lean down and kiss Hawk, when the door creaks open. Beej stops in his tracks as the entire Uijeongbu maternity ward marches in, eyes wide as he looks down at Hawkeye.

They stay like that for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, blue into blue, and somehow it’s quiet and intimate and entirely theirs. And then BJ reaches out to pat Hawkeye’s hand, gives him a wink, and lets go.

Hawk can’t hear what’s being said over the pounding of his heart in his ears, can’t think of anything beyond the dryness of his mouth and the shaking hands. He wonders for a brief, glorious moment, if he could get himself off under the blanket while BJ is lecturing. His hips jerk involuntarily at the thought, of getting a hand on his cock and giving himself some relief.

“You ready, Hawk?” Beej asks, somehow keeping his voice steady.

“Sure, Beej. I hope this kid looks like you.”

Beej laughs, a glorious noise, beautiful and alive and _fucking_ gorgeous. “Just remember Hawk, it’s all in the delivery.”

He laughs again at his own pun, shaking his head as he turns to greet their audience. Hawk watches Beej turn on the professional charm, and can’t fight back a smile. Maybe it’s pointless for the two of them to try, but Hawk can’t think of anything better than creating new life in the middle of all this death.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hawkeye is quite used to taking matters into his own hands when it comes to getting off.  
>  He’s just not used to having an audience, oblivious as they are. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolute smut ahead!

Hawkeye is quite used to taking matters into his own hands when it comes to getting off.

He’s just not used to having an audience, oblivious as they are.

But these are strange times for all of them. Nurses disappearing into thin air. Doctors shooting each other. And the icing on the cake: two male surgeons being asked to teach a birthing lesson, despite both lacking the necessary reproductive equipment.

Yeah, _strange_ about covers it.

BJ starts his lecture, cool and calm and professional, pausing now and then for the Korean interpreter, and he’s blissfully unaware of what Hawk has planned. Hawk manages to slide his hand underneath the blanket covering his lower half.

BJ hasn’t laid a hand on him, and yet Hawk is already painfully hard and aching with want and need, aching to be touched, aching to fall to pieces beneath Beej’s steady hands. But BJ is preoccupied, which leaves Hawk to his own devices (which, speaking from experience, is a dangerous idea).

He presses the heel of his hand into his cock, biting his lip to suppress a groan. He’s unable to stop himself from rocking his hips forward into his hand, the pressure both too much and not enough and dangerously perfect all at the same time. Hawkeye damn well knows that this is fucking stupid, but reckless stupidity aside, if it means he can find release, he really can’t talk himself out of it.

He touches himself absentmindedly, caressing and stroking through the fabric of his fatigues, and if he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend it’s BJ touching him instead. Luckily, Hawk has an entire mental vault of images and memories, enough to come to pieces five times over without Beej ever touching him. Beej’s skin blazing hot against his, his own choked obscenities muffled in Beej’s neck, a line of purple hickeys strewn across the skin of BJ’s hips, and sturdy hands that wrap around his cock to give him the release he so desperately wants-

_Fucking hell,_ he thinks, desperately scrabbling at his belt and fatigues, one clumsy hand fumbling at his belt, eager to properly touch himself as he chases his release. _Fucking hell, Beej._

A whimper escapes before Hawk can stop it as his own shaking hand wraps around his cock. He eagerly tilts his hips into his willing hand, and it’s _so good_. He doesn’t know if he’s being remotely subtle, but he’s almost too far gone to care.

BJ’s eyes flicker to his patient for a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what’s happening, going right back to his lecture without a second thought. 

Hawk wants it to last, wants to push himself to the glorious edge between pleasure and pain, imagining Beej’s hands in place of his own, or Beej’s clever mouth and tongue sucking and licking at him like he’s some kind of decadent dessert, but his hips are already desperately bucking into his grip, and it’s all too _fucking_ much, audience be damned.

He’s trying to pay attention to the lecture, really he is, but seeing BJ playing Dr. Hunnicutt is sending sparks down his spine that rival those caused by his fantasies. It’s always been like this; BJ being professional is enough to make Hawk want to get down on his knees and offer supplication and sexual favours, because it isn’t just enough that he has to be marvellous and beautiful, he’s a fucking amazing surgeon too.

With the white-knuckled grasp Hawk has on his senses, he manages to keep his noises of pleasure to a minimum, and such restraint leaves him nearly biting a hole in his lip in the process. If anyone asks, he’s simulating labor pains.

But if BJ touches him, he may come apart entirely by accident.

Hawk wants nothing more than to kiss Beej senseless, to muffle his groans in Beej’s mouth, to have Beej inside of him, beautiful and glorious and fucking him into senselessness with a fierce tenderness that Hawk may never get used to. The pregnancy idea may have been a joke, something that fell out of his mouth at Kimpo, when he truly saw how gorgeous BJ Hunnicutt was, before he’d even really had the chance to consider what loving him would mean. Now though, it’s a running joke, an excuse for BJ to fuck him on a regular basis.

“Ah, ah, _ah.”_ He’s unable to help himself, the noise of anguish escaping before he can stop it. He chokes back a groan, Beej’s name dying on his lips.

Beej is saying something, but Hawk can’t hear over the rushing of blood in his ears, the pounding of his heart, and his own panting breath. BJ places a reassuring hand on Hawk’s knee, and that alone nearly sends him over the edge, because BJ is giving him a concerned look. His eyes go wide as he stares at Hawk, and he trails off, losing his train of thought.

_Beej,_ Hawk thinks, and screws his eyes shut, choking back a wail. When he opens them again, Beej is staring. To his credit, Beej acts like this has no effect on him, as though his best friend and lover getting himself off in front of an audience is an everyday occurrence. It would be convincing too, were it not for the blush creeping across his cheeks. Hawk knows what he looks like with the blush spreading across his chest, his whole body flushed with exertion and arousal, and it sends Hawk’s mind into a frenzy to imagine how far BJ’s blush is reaching now.

Their eyes meet, and Hawk can’t stop a ragged breath from escaping. There’s a dangerous twinkle in BJ’s eyes, one that says he’s cottoned on to what Hawk is doing, and one that promises swift retribution for Hawk’s shameless exhibitionism.

BJ moves casually, but there’s a certain tension in his shoulders that Hawk would recognize anywhere, usually the product of innuendo and whispered demands of exactly what Hawk wants to have done to him. The realization that this is affecting Beej too propels Hawk ever closer to that elusive edge. After all, it isn’t the first time that BJ has watched Hawk get himself off. Hawkeye has many enjoyable memories of BJ watching him, eyes dark with lust as Hawk touches himself.

From the waves of tension rolling through his belly and building at the base of his spine, Hawk can tell that his brain stands a good chance of melting out his ears. He’s so _fucking_ close.

Hawkeye is certain that every one of his nerve endings is alight with want and need, as he thrusts his hips forward, calling up delicious memories of BJ and his fierce tenderness.

BJ’s mouth against his, kissing him like there will never be another chance. BJ squirming and whining with need as Hawk kisses the corner of his jaw. A bead of sweat trickling down BJ’s collarbone, begging for Hawk’s tongue to trace its path. BJ’s hands tangled in Hawk’s hair, the absolutely broken noise he made the first time he came apart under Hawk’s shaky hands, the taste of his cock in Hawk’s mouth. Hawk remembers memorizing Beej’s hips with his mouth, and leaving a string of hickeys across Beej’s thighs, wanting to mark Beej as his, wanting to worship and offer praise with his mouth and body. Naked Beej is a breathtaking sight, tall and broad and long-legged, golden and tan and beautiful, and even the memory is enough to bring Hawk ever closer to the edge. 

He thinks of BJ’s ragged breathing in his ear, breath hot on Hawk’s neck, the words tumbling and tripping over each other as he thrusts into Hawk, as the two of them fall apart together in a blur of mouths and limbs and pounding hearts: _I love you Hawk, God, I fucking love you, I love you, I love you._

With a muffled cry that might have started out as Beej’s name, Hawk falls apart, shuddering and shaking, his eyes screwed shut as he thinks of Beej’s hands on his skin, Beej’s mouth on his, waves of arousal and release crashing over him relentlessly. He wrings out every last shred of pleasure, riding out his release in full, and all he can think of is Beej.

He’s still breathing heavily as he flops back on the cot, boneless and sated and _wrecked,_ yet at the same time absurdly proud of himself for pulling it off. His eyes lazily drift open, only to watch BJ walk over with a teddy bear in his arms, gently placing it on Hawk’s chest (almost as if he were really carrying a child). “Congratulations, Mrs. Pierce,” he tells him, squeezing Hawk’s shoulder a bit harder than necessary. “It’s a bear.”

“Mmmm,” Hawk says, his eyes drifting closed again. Somewhere nearby, there’s applause. (It might be the audience, who got a bit more of a show than they were expecting). He should be cleaning himself up, should at least pull his hands out of his skivvies, but he doesn’t have enough energy to do anything more than lie here, dragging his eyes open to watch BJ with exhausted adoration. _God, I love you,_ he thinks to himself, and grins at the thought.

Their audience clears out, and despite having forgotten how to make his limbs work properly, Hawk manages to prop himself up on an elbow as Beej cleans up. He wants to say something, anything, but can’t seem to find the words. His brain is still a puddle of goo, and the first few tries come out as gibberish. He clears his throat and gives Beej his best leer. “No kiss for the mother of your child, Beej?” His voice sounds as though he’s been gargling with sand.

Beej turns, and Hawk notes gratefully that he seems more amused than annoyed. He walks over, and Hawk notes with devilish pleasure that Beej is walking funny, no doubt due to the slight bulge in his own fatigues.

“You goddamn exhibitionist,” Beej tells him, his voice low. “I ought to spank you for that display you just put on.”

“Go ahead,” Hawk tells him, flopping back. “But as promising as that sounds, if you want to spank me, you’ll have to turn me over first. I’d do it myself, but I don’t think I can move just yet.”

Beej is shaking his head, but he simply pulls the teddy bear and blanket away from Hawk, chuckling to himself as he tosses them aside. “And you couldn’t even wait for me? That’s just selfish, Hawk.”

“It’s your fault you know.” The words slip out before he can stop them.

Beej’s eyebrows go up. “ _My_ fault?” he repeats, confused. “How the fuck is it my fault?”

“You’re the one who got me pregnant in the first place,” Hawk says.

BJ laughs, cupping Hawk’s jaw with his hand, running a thumb over Hawk’s lower lip, before leaning in and kissing him, a long and thorough kiss that makes Hawk go weak at the knees. When Beej pulls away all too soon, Hawk tries to follow his mouth, whining in protest as Beej laughs (it’s a glorious sound). 

“Should get cleaned up, Hawk,” Beej tells him, and it’s then that Hawk remembers his hand still in his skivvies. He makes a valiant effort to move, but his muscles don’t seem all that willing to cooperate.

“If it’s all the same to you,” he says, his voice rough, “I think I’ll just lie here awhile. Just put a detour sign on my chest and leave me be.”

Beej gently tugs Hawk’s hand out of his skivvies, tsking as he examines it. “Made a real mess here, huh Hawk?”

“Mmm.” It’s more of a sigh than an answer. BJ grins as he looks up at Hawk, before returning his attention to Hawk’s hands.

Beej lifts Hawk’s hand to his mouth, eagerly lapping at Hawk’s fingers with his tongue. He’s licking and sucking as if Hawk is the best thing he’s ever tasted, mouth moving against Hawk’s skin. Hawkeye’s cock, despite being spent, gives a half-hearted twitch at this, and he whines a little as Beej hums his approval around Hawk’s fingers.

“ _Fuck_ ,” is all Hawk can manage, a keening whine crawling its way up his throat until it’s barely recognizable as English. Beej chuckles around Hawk’s fingers, and Hawk reaches with his other hand to swat at him. “ _Beej._ ”

BJ meets his eyes, and Hawk realizes that this is in part his punishment for his shameless display, for getting off with an audience other than Beej (if this is punishment, Hawk would hate to see the reward). He feels a bit ashamed now, if only because this isn’t anything to do with their Korean guests. This is personal and private and tender, between him and BJ and no one else. BJ’s gaze is intense, possessiveness and warmth and something almost like love in his eyes as he gently manipulates Hawk’s hand to get at inch of Hawk’s skin. It’s as if he’s eager to taste every last drop of Hawk, to savour him, as if Hawkeye is something worth savouring.

He gives Hawk a tender look, his mouth soft against Hawk’s hand, pressing his lips to the tip of Hawk’s fingers, before very gently kissing Hawk’s palm. Beej then curls Hawk’s fingers around the spot he kissed, as if protecting it, keeping it safe, before returning the hand to its owner.

Hawk feels a lump in his throat that has nothing to do with arousal. “Beej,” he says, his voice wavering.

“I love you, Hawk,” Beej says. This is personal and private and tender, and it’s almost like lovemaking.

“I love you too, Beej.” They stay like that for a second, staring at each other, and the tenderness in BJ’s eyes is almost too much for Hawk to bear.

Unable to help himself, Hawk pulls Beej in for a kiss, desperate and needy, his tongue in BJ’s mouth, BJ biting at his lower lip, and he’s sure he can taste himself on BJ’s lips, the taste dizzying and fucking intoxicating.

The two of them are clutching each other like there’s no tomorrow, like all they have is this one stolen moment (Hawk is living on stolen moments, but this one may be his favourite). It continues, Beej’s hands tangling in his hair, Beej laughing into his mouth as Hawk clutches the lapels of his coat, eagerly pulling him closer.

When they finally pull away, both of them panting, BJ looks almost as satisfied as Hawk feels, and Hawk feels an intense need to drag him off behind OR and make him come to pieces.

BJ buckles Hawk's belt for him like he’s done so many times before, and Hawk is momentarily distracted by the adoring smile, losing track of whatever he was going to say. When he can finally string words together again, Hawk says, “Gotta see Colonel Potter…. Get R&R.”

“You read my mind,” Beej says, before helping Hawk up off the cot. His knees buckle, and he collapses into BJ’s side, Beej laughing all the while. “Easy, Hawk, easy,” he says.

Hawk can't help the goofy lovestruck grin spreading across his face as he looks up at BJ. And maybe he’s half-loopy, somewhere between sated and exhausted, and maybe he could have lost Beej this morning, but he didn’t, and that’s something. “ _Fuck_ , Beej,” he says breathlessly.

“I know, Hawk.” It’s a comforting rumble that Hawk feels as much as hears, and he wraps an arm around Beej’s shoulder, Beej’s arm curling possessively around his waist. BJ presses a quick kiss to the top of Hawk’s head, before asking, “You okay?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “M fine.” He gives Beej a look as they make their way out of the mess tent. “Craving pickles.”

Beej laughs, the sound as intoxicating as the fresh spring sunshine awaiting them in the compound, his body warm against Hawk’s. _I love you,_ Hawk thinks again. He still isn’t sure how they got here, isn’t sure what he did to deserve someone so good and wonderful, and it’s just one more strange thing he doesn’t quite understand. And yet…

it's just the right kind of strange.


End file.
